The convoy stopped in front of the wrought-iron gates of the Rinaldi mansion. The rain had softened to a drizzle, dripping from the leaves onto the slick cobblestones.
The armored booth in the lead car opened.
The girl was soaked, and her hair plastered to her face. She looked no older than Matteo.
As they stepped inside the mansion, the maid, a tall woman with kind eyes, stepped forward. She froze for a second at the sight before her.
"Take her inside," he said, in a rough voice. "She needs a bath and clothes. Matteo's old ones will do."
The maid blinked, taking in the sight of the girl. Naked, drenched, and no older than Matteo himself.
"Sir… she—she's exactly…?" she stammered.
"Yes. Exactly that age. Now move."
The child hesitated, then allowed herself to be led inside by the maid. Donato exhaled another smoke, flicking ash into the ashtray, watching silently as the girl disappeared inside.
"How's he doing?" He asked dropping the cigarette in the ashtray.
Matteo bodyguard, a broad man with a scar along his jaw, spoke up. "He hasn't eaten, sir and he has refused dinner. Though he's still awake in his room."
"Bring him down."
The guard disappeared, returning moments later with Matteo. He didn't look up, just stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Matteo," Donato said, voice calm but cold. "Dinner was ready. Why did you refuse it?"
…Nothing. Matteo's eyes remained fixed on the floor.
"Answer me." Donato gestured for him to step closer.
Matteo obeyed silently, stopping a foot away.
"Look at me, son."
He lifted his gaze, the weight of his father's stare pressing down.
"You're my son. The Rinaldis. That means strength, not weakness. Do you understand?"
"I…" Matteo swallowed, but said nothing.
Donato exhaled, smoke curling between them. "Do you?"
"Yes, father." His voice was soft, barely audible, but it carried the conviction his father demanded.
"Good." Donato's lips curved into something resembling approval, sharp but fleeting. "I brought someone for you."
Matteo's eyes flickered upward. "Someone?"
"Look." Donato gestured toward the hallway where the maid had disappeared with the girl. "She's staying with you. Consider her… a companion."
Matteo's face lit up, curiosity breaking through the gloom that had shadowed him all evening.
"She… she's staying here?" he asked.
"Yes. But there are conditions." Donato's voice hardened again. "If you want to meet her properly in the morning, you must eat, and you must sleep. Do you understand?"
Matteo nodded immediately. "Yes, father."
"Good." Donato waved a hand, signaling the guard. "Guide him to dinner."
The guard stepped forward. "This way, sir."
Matteo followed the guard, but paused in the doorway. "Father…"
"Yes?" Donato's voice was steady.
"I… thank you." His words were small, but his eyes held a flicker of gratitude.
Donato raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He simply watched as his son followed the guard, disappearing down the corridor.
The maid led the girl to an empty guest room where the fire was already lit, the warm air carrying the scent of polished wood.
"Wait here a moment," the maid said softly, glancing back. "I'll prepare you a warm bath."
Later, she guided the child to a nearby bathroom. Steam already rising from the bath tub. She knelt beside the girl.
"Let's get you clean and warm, alright? I'll make you some clothes after." She poured water carefully, washing the dirt from the girl's arms and legs. "You must be freezing…"
The girl flinched at first, then stayed still, letting the maid work. Not a word passed from her lips.
"Good girl… see? Doesn't hurt at all." The maid's hands moved gently, patting her dry afterward. "Now, let's get you dressed."
She picked out Matteo's old clothes — a bit large, but soft and clean. "There we go… nice and dry. You'll be comfortable in this, I promise."
The girl finally blinked at her, still silent, but for the first time relaxed her shoulders. The maid smiled, brushing damp strands from her face.
Not long, A faint sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway — the girl emerging, now dressed in Matteo's old clothes, slightly oversized but neat. She paused at the doorway, uncertain.
She didn't speak, Donato turned back to the window.
"Give her some food, she might be hungry"
"Yes, sir," The maid said immediately, leading her away.
Donato glanced toward the girl again, there was something about her he couldn't shake, he had planned to torture her so she could expose who sent her but he couldn't. He didn't sense any threat whatsoever.
The girl sat on a chair at the dining table, the maid stood beside her, gently guiding her hands toward the plate.
"Here we go… just take a little," the maid said softly. "You must be starving, poor little thing."
The girl's lips pressed together, she didn't answer. She picked up the spoon awkwardly, mimicking the maid's motions, carefully taking small bites.
Matteo sat across from her, his fork paused mid-air, watching silently. His eyes followed her every motion—the way she delicately balanced the spoon, the careful way she picked up the bread.
After a moment, he leaned forward slightly. "Why… aren't you speaking?" he asked curiosity breaking through.
The maid glanced at him, brushing a damp strand of hair from the girl's forehead. "She… hasn't said a word yet," she said gently. "But that's alright. Some children… they take time. They've been through a lot. It's best to be patient."
Matteo nodded slowly. "I see." His gaze returned to the girl.
Matteo's lips curved into a small smile, almost imperceptible. He took a bite of his food, his eyes flicking to her again. There was something… unusual about her and he liked it.
The maid leaned closer. "There we go… very good. You're doing well. Let's finish a little more."
The rain continued its soft rhythm outside. Inside, the mansion was warm, safe, and for the first time, two lives had quietly intersected under its roof.